The Staff of Aaron
by Lemmie666
Summary: A continuation from the first part of my FanFic. Lara traces the intricate history of the Staff of Aaron, pursued by the mysterious and dangerous Artemis Foundation.
1. Another Day, Another Clue

Lara stood hands on her hips, looking for a way in

Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

Lara, Marika and Wrasse sat at a table outside a busy restaurant in the central business district of Santo Domingo. Escarelli was busy collecting a tray of coffees at the counter.

'Who are we here to see?' asked Marika.

'An old friend of mine from the university. She's one of the research librarians. We worked on a few digs together in Guatemala and Nicaragua, about twelve years ago. She should be arriving in about ten minutes…' she glanced at her watch.

Escarelli came and sat down at the table 'so, what are you expecting from your friend?' He shared out all the coffee cups, and the other three watched her closely.

'Honestly, I really don't know. Although, I would be surprised if the staff was in still in the Dominican Republic,' she looked at them, an embarrassed smile playing around her mouth 'Look, I'm sorry to drag all of you around the world like this; especially you Signor Escarelli. By all rights, we should have taken you back to Venice days ago.'

Escarelli shook his head 'I am as eager as you to uncover the secrets surrounding this artefact. And of course, what my wife has to do with this. Besides, after years of sitting in an office and boardrooms studying pie charts and profit projections, I'm finally seeing something of the world,' he winked 'And off the tourist trail as well!'

Lara beamed 'That's what I love about it! I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. But, poor Wrasse,' she tutted 'You've damaged your ankle because of these exploits. Even if you wanted to accompany me, you can't join in much of the action!'

'That's just fine, Miss Croft. Turkey and Mexico were quite exciting enough. Anyway, I hope that I'll be able to join in at some point soon. The doctor expects that'll it will be a week at most before I can take the dressings off; another few days to heal completely after that.'

'I hope so,' said a concerned Lara. She turned to Marika 'Now, have you called your parents? You know how important I think that is – one should always stay in good contact with ones family.'

'Don't worry Lara; I called them from the hotel. They're perfectly happy that I'm with you – an ambassador's daughter does tend to have a fairly closeted life. They send their good wishes anyway – they're off to an inaugural dinner tonight.'

Lara smiled again 'Well, I'm glad. It's good that none of you are suffering too much. I-'

'Lara?' A woman, about forty years old and swathed in colourful silks. Her black, plaited hair was coiled up in a beaded headscarf. She had a green satchel, and she peered at Lara through delicate spectacles.

Lara jumped up and hugged her.

'Elizabeta! It's wonderful to see you!'

'And to see you too! Now let go before I asphyxiate!'

Lara quickly fetched a chair, and introduced Elizabeta to the others. Escarelli went up to get another coffee, and rejoined them. Elizabeta looked around admiringly.

'Well, well Lara! You've certainly gained quite a gang! I hope my information is useful in your search – oh, but it's been so long since you were last in Santo Domingo! When was the last time…three years ago? How time flies, eh?'

'Don't I know it! But you know me; jet-setting and globe-trotting is my life!' Lara smiled.

'Of course. But the rest of us prefer a slightly more pedestrian life,' Elizabeta looked around, looking for agreement 'Anyway, I should give you what I have before my lunch break is over.' She produced her satchel, and took out some photocopies and printed sheets.

'Now, as far as I can tell, your artefact was taken back to Santo Domingo, after the fall of…what was it? Tlalocaxa, you said?'

Lara nodded.

'Well, it was taken back here by a galleon from Vera Cruz. It was kept in the Cathedral here, until 1586.'

'What happened in 1586?' asked Marika, but Lara knew.

'Drake's invasion, right?'

'Correct Lara! Sir Francis Drake sacked the port in that year, and carried off the spoils.'

'So, the staff went with him?'

'There's no mention of it in any documents after this time. As far as I can guess, it may have gone back to England.'

Lara frowned 'What? We've been all over Europe and South America; when it might have been back home, in _England!_'

'Calm down Lara,' Marika said soothingly 'For all we know, going to England might well be another link in the chain. We can't say for certain that it's where the staff is now.'

'Maybe so, but I'll pretty annoyed if it is.'

'You couldn't possibly have known!'

Elizabeta cleared her throat 'Well, that's where I'd guess it went. It's the best lead I can think of. You'd better follow it up – quickly.'

Lara looked pained 'Why do I think the reason might be more out of personal safety rather than simple expedience?'

'You'd be right. A couple of my colleagues have been approached by rather shady characters. An under librarian has actually received death threats – she's in hospital, recovering from shock.'

'Oh dear. Well, we'll catch the first plane to Heathrow as soon as possible. Encourage your colleagues not to deal with these people, please! They are extremely dangerous – even we don't know how far their power extends. And we've had a few run-ins with their agents.'

'I'll tell them, but there's only so much words will do. Oh, dear, look at the time. Goodbye Lara, it was lovely to meet all of you. Keep safe!'

They all said goodbye, and Elizabeta disappeared off into the crowded street. The rest sat down again.

'How Elena, and the Artemis Foundation, could have found out about a lead to Santo Domingo is beyond me' asked Escarelli 'I thought Azucena was the only other person in Tlalocaxa – and he was dead before you found out that the staff had gone to Hispaniola!'

Lara shook her head 'I can only guess that they had an informant in Puerta Sagrada. I don't know what to think. In any case,' she took out a mobile phone 'We're ahead of the game now, but who knows how long that will last? I'm phoning ahead to the airport. Now, please, Antonio,' she added, looking at Escarelli 'when we fly, can you tell us everything you know about the Artemis Foundation?'


	2. Flying High

Sorry that this has been so long - I had a computer crisis soon after I posted the first installment and couldn't post further. However, I managed to get another two and a bit chapters done, so it's not all bad. Enjoy!

* * *

Flight MIA9443, Somewhere over the Bahamas

The four settled back in their first class seats on board the Boeing 747. The beautiful archipelago of the Bahamas stretched like a chain of green islands across the Caribbean. Lara had booked tickets at the last moment with American Airlines. From Miami they would catch a flight to Heathrow, and be back at Lara's own home outside the town of Epsom the next day.

Lara thanked the waitress who had handed her a glass of iced water, and then settled back in her seat. Marika, as usual, was busy typing away at her laptop computer. Wrasse had fallen asleep, head lolling next to the window. Escarelli was reading the safety manual that he had taken from the back of the chair in front of him.

Lara leaned over 'Now would be a good time to tell us about the Artemis Foundation, Mr Escarelli.'

Marika turned her laptop off, and sat up straight, watching them closely. Escarelli licked his lips nervously, his gaze flicking from one to the other.

'Well, as you know, the Artemis Foundation is a division of UNESCO, founded in 1992. It is presided over by a committee of nine, of whom both I and my wife were members.'

'So who are the others?'

Escarelli took a pad and a pen from his rucksack. He wrote down some names, along with descriptions, occasionally tapping the pen on his chin, to recall a name or a date. Eventually, he finished the list and handed it to Lara. She took it, listening as Escarelli went through it again.

'The eight committee members, four male, four female, are subordinate to the chairperson. The chairperson is reviewed every four years by UNESCO and either replaced or has their contract renewed. If they are replaced, they are selected from the other committee members. Members tend to be businesspeople with interests in archaeology, professors or scientists. Once we even had an Oscar-winner as a committee member.'

'Anyway, I've written down all the current committee members and their date of induction to the Foundation. My wife and I applied for entry in 2003, and joined the organisation in early 2004. There are the other six committee members. Torquil MacGregor, he's a Scottish businessman – hotels, clubs, property, that kind of thing. Joined the Foundation in 2007, after he found he was about to build on top of a very important Iron Age site in Northern Scotland.'

'Then we have Nicolas Prumont, a Belgian scientist at the University of Brussels. He was recommended by UNESCO because of his interest in early Germanic settlements along the Rhine along with his own field of Genetics and Bio-Engineering. He joined in about 1998.'

'Scott Harper, an Australian businessman. He's got interests in just about everything – mining, farming, banking, security. He's probably the greenest member of the group, a great exponent of renewable energy, organic agriculture and ethical trade. He joined at the same time as Elena and I did, in 2004.'

'And we have Yasmin Ocolotra. She's of mixed Yemenite/Spanish origin. She owns oil pipelines all over the Middle East – Ocol Oil, have you heard of it? She's also a business partner of mine; sells me crude for my factories in Italy. She's diversified a lot though – perfumes, fashion, media. She does a lot of our PR work. Elena and her are very good friends. She joined in 2002.'

'Helga Strømsson, a Swedish scientist and Professor of Latin and Greek at Lund University. She's done research on inscriptions in Pompeii and Herculaneum, as well as efforts to improve carbon dating and excavation methods. She was also recommended by UNESCO – she took the place of the Oscar Winner in 2005.'

'The last of the committee members is Kae-Yung Sun, a Korean model turned business consultant and whose passion is archaeology. She's brought many different treasures to light in both Korea and China; most notably when she uncovered the diaries of Qin Shi-Huangdi at Xian – she's still trying to convince Beijing University to fund more excavations at the site of his tomb. She joined the organisation in late 2006.'

Lara looked at the list again. 'And who's the chairperson?'

'Diego Vilpanchez. He's the Director of the Peruvian National Museum in Lima. He's the second chairperson of the Foundation – he was the temporary replacement of the first, back in 1995, and he's been kept on ever since. A nice man, but getting on a bit.'

Marika studied the notepad. Then she took it and flipped onto the next page, writing each name out again. She put a tick next to Elena's and a cross next to Escarelli's.

'I would guess that it's more than just your wife involved in this game, Escarelli. I think that several, if not all, of the members of the Foundation are colluding. Look at them! Some of the biggest names in international business are on that list – as well as some of the world's most respected scientists. We do need to trail the staff as quickly as possible, but we also need to know who's in on the plot and who isn't.'

'She's right,' said Lara 'Now, I know we're taxing you a little, but do you think you could tell us where these people were, the last time you heard from them?'

Escarelli took Marika's list 'Well, I don't know where Elena is of course…Torquil spends a lot of his time in Edinburgh though – that's where he lives. Nicolas does a lot of travelling around the Low Countries, lecturing you know. Scott Harper could be anywhere in the Southern Hemisphere, that gives you an idea of the range of his business interests.'

He tapped the pad with the pen, trying to remember.

'Hmm…Yasmin splits her time between houses in Dubai, Muscat and Damascus…and Helga probably in her apartment in Gothenburg, now that the Christmas holidays have started for the universities...that's right isn't it, it's the third of January today. As for Kae, I last heard that she was still presenting a case for further archaeological study to a committee in Beijing. And Diego usually lives in Lima, although he does have another house in Cusco. But I couldn't tell you for certain where any of them are.'

Lara smiled, as Marika wrote down these details. 'Well, we'll get in touch with all of them. Thanks Antonio. Now that I can put names to the Artemis Foundation, I feel a lot better.'

Marika looked out of the window. 'I think we're coming into Miami International now.'

Sure enough, an electronic bell sounded, and the voice of the captain asking all passengers to put their seatbelts on came over on the PA system. Marika woke Wrasse, and they prepared to land.


	3. Crime Scene 1

Number 22, Royal Circus, Edinburgh, Scotland, 03/01/08, 2329 hours

Torquil MacGregor snapped his laptop shut. That was enough business for one evening. He looked at his watch. Half past eleven. Time for bed soon – but he'd have one more glass of whisky first.

He got up from the expensive leather sofa, and went into his kitchen. It was a beautiful room, the units made by hand in Norway, and shipped over here at great expense. The soft lighting cast pale shadows across the cream walls. He opened a cupboard, took out a bottle of Glenfiddach, and sat down at the breakfast bar. He took up a shiny silver remote control, and switched on a gleaming LCD television that was fixed to the wall. He flicked through some channels, but nothing interested him tonight.

He left it on, but muted, and sipped his whisky. It was a good one – warming but not too smoky. He'd have to order another case. He looked out of the window. Number 22 was on the south side of Royal Circus, and beyond the other town houses he could see Edinburgh Castle, lit up in all its medieval grandeur. To think, only a few days ago, the city had been so noisy with the Hogmanay celebrations. It was so quiet now.

He switched off the television, dimmed the lights and went to the staircase in the hall. He paused in front of the door. Had he heard a footstep on the steps outside? He waited, in case the doorbell rang. No, maybe not.

He climbed the stairs, and went into the bathroom. He washed his face, brushed his teeth and took his medication. He had had a slight heart problem a few months ago – raised blood pressure and bad cholesterol, his doctor had said. Not that doctors knew anything. He stopped again on the landing.

Had something creaked downstairs? He'd been burgled once before, when he was out of the house, thank God. The privileged houses of the New Town were seen as goldmines to some of the more daring of Edinburgh's criminals. No, he must be imagining it.

He went into his bedroom, full of the smells of good linen sheets and cherry wood furnishings. The bed was flanked by two side tables, on top of which were two modern lamps which splashed a soft edged light across the room. He undressed, and slid into bed, picking up a copy of a Sir Walter Scott. Scott always sent him to sleep.

It must have been two minutes, bathed in the glow of the lamps, happily reading the book, when he heard the tinkling of glass on the floor below. He snapped the book shut. He had been right! Someone was trying to break in! Well, they wouldn't get away with it this time!

He got up quietly, and put on a dressing gown. He took out his mobile phone, and dialled 999.

A voice clicked into hearing 'This is the emergency services, police, fire or ambulance?'

'Police,' said Torquil gruffly. He strained to hear any more noises from downstairs, waiting for his certainty to be proved right.

'Hello, Lothian police here, how can we help?' a man's voice came onto the other line.

'Hello? There's an intruder in my house, possibly more than one!' Torquil whispered furiously.

There was a pause. Then, 'Are you sure sir?'

'Of course! Can you…'

'We'll send a squad car at once sir. Name? Address?'

'Torquil MacGregor, 22 Royal Circus, New Town.'

'Thank you sir. Now stay calm and stay where you are. We'll be with you soon.'

Torquil snapped the phone shut. Stay calm? Stay where he _was!_ While some little bastards from a Niddrie housing estate made off with his laptop and expensive kitchenware? Not likely!

He pulled a drawer open, and rummaged through it. At last, he found what he was looking for – a small, snub nosed pistol that gleamed in the lamplight. He'd have to be careful not to kill or paralyse anyone – they'd sued some poor sod who'd done that, while defending his home against burglars. Foot, leg or shoulder, that's where to aim.

He eased the door open, and looked around the darkened landing. No one there. He padded down the wooden stairs until he looked into the hall. Streetlight shone in through the glass panes. Still, no sign of anyone. Had he been mistaken after all?

The crash of a vase told him instantly how wrong he'd been. He went quickly down the stairs, spun round and faced the kitchen door at the end of the hall. He crept closer, his left hand stretched out to the door, ready to push it open. The door creaked back, revealing the shadowy silhouettes of the kitchen furniture. Nothing there.

A slim figure, clothed in a tight fitting black stealth suit, illuminated by the glow from a pair of night-vision goggles, dashed across Torquil's view. He shouted, and fired after the figure, but the bullet smashed a window across the kitchen.

Someone kicked him in the small of his back. He went down, dropping the gun which clattered onto the floorboards. A black gloved hand picked it up, cocked it, and pointed it at his temple. The green glow from the figure's goggles lit up the whole scene in a ghastly emerald shade. The figure watched him levelly, not moving at all.

It took off the safety catch with a click.

'No...' Torquil whispered.

There was a shot, and darkness.


	4. Home Again

Croft Manor, Epsom, Surrey, England

'Lady Croft,' said Winston genially as Lara stepped over the threshold of her home 'I am very glad to see you home again. Has your trip been fruitful?'

'In some respects Winston, in some respects,' said Lara, smiling happily 'We picked up a few others in our wake; you know Marika Kostnikova, daughter of the Polish Ambassador.'

'Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Kostnikova.'

'Likewise Winston.'

'And here,' Lara gestured to the others 'Are Henry Wrasse, formally of the Royal Marines, and Antonio Escarelli, an Italian businessman who, unfortunately, has ended up in rather sticky circumstances.'

Winston raised an eyebrow, but bowed to both of them.

'I've left copies of today's newspapers in the solar madam. Shall I serve tea there?'

'Yes please, but I don't think we'll want to look at newspapers. We've got some serious planning to do.'

'Well, it's a terrible business. On almost every front page, that awful death in Edinburgh. Poor man.'

'Edinburgh?' Lara turned to him 'Who was he?'

'Torquil…somebody, I forget the surname. Murder, apparently, but the police aren't ruling out suicide. Just awful. Something big in property I believe he was,' he shook his head 'I'll go and make the tea, then I'll attend to your cases.'

Winston withdrew, leaving the others to head up to the solar.

'It can't be the same one, can it?' asked Marika.

'There's nothing like a coincidence to heighten a conspiracy, I always say,' said Lara darkly 'However, if it turns out to be the same man, we'll have to be on our guard. We know already that these people aren't the best examples of morality, but if they've taken to eliminating the remaining members of the Artemis Foundation…' she let the rest hang in the air, her expression telling more.

They walked down another corridor to the solar. This was a more private area than the living room and drawing rooms downstairs – it was where Lara often read of an evening, and so it had long, stained glass windows that faced west to catch the setting sun. The inlaid wooden floor was polished to a high sheen.

'Does Winston do all this himself?' marvelled Wrasse 'You must work that poor man to death Lara!'

Lara smiled 'He's very good, isn't he? He doesn't do the garden, I get someone else to do that. But most other things, yes, although he has been known to employ other cleaners from the town and some friends from surrounding country houses. I don't mind, but they have to be kept away from some of the more private areas – like the collection rooms and the library. I've got records and examples of things that most people haven't heard of, and the rest don't think they exist!'

They settled onto the comfortable sofas, and picked up some of the newspapers that were spread out on the coffee table. As Winston had said, nearly all the front pages had a photograph of the townhouse in Royal Crescent, covered in police tape and surrounded by forensic scientists in white suits.

Escarelli read the front page of the Times quickly 'That's him! Torquil McGregor – that's the man! And I remember his house in Edinburgh – I was at a party there once,' he put his head in his hands 'He wasn't a bad man at all, not in the least.'

'I know I do,' muttered Lara 'What worries me more is the circumstances of his death. Few signs of forced entry, his being shot cleanly in the head…professional killers. I think we can rule out suicide and as for burglary – nothing has been reported missing.'

'But why?' Marika asked.

'I don't know. But I hope we won't see a pattern emerging,' she leant over to Escarelli.

'Do you need a moment?'

'No, thank you. I'm fine,' said Escarelli, sitting up again 'It was just a shock, that's all. I'm quite well.'

'If you're sure,' Lara said, and then reorganised the newspapers on the table, shuffling them back into a tidy pile. Once she had done so, she looked around with an expectant expression.

'So, does anyone have ideas about where we should go next?'

Wrasse looked uncomfortable as if he was being interrogated by a teacher 'Well, something to do with Sir Francis Drake, perhaps?'

'Correct Mr Wrasse,' Lara smiled 'Ah Winston, come in.'

Everyone else looked round in surprise, as Winston eased the door open. They hadn't noticed anything, and they looked at Lara in admiration. Winston came over to the table, and handed out china cups of tea, pouring milk and sugar in as required. This done, he took out a duster and began to dust some of the crystal vases on a side table.

Lara sipped her tea 'Well, I have some ideas. One takes precedence over the others, naturally. I propose that we take a trip to Tavistock.'

Escarelli's forehead wrinkled, but Marika looked thoughtful 'Sir Francis Drake's birthplace?'

'And his later home yes. Or more specifically, Buckland Abbey, a few miles to the south of the town. I hope we'll find something there.'

'But it's a museum isn't it?' broke in Wrasse 'I mean, surely everything to do with Drake has already been investigated in the house? I mean, he's not exactly unknown is he?'

'Maybe not,' said Lara thoughtfully 'he was a secretive fellow, our friend Francis. I'm sure something as important as the staff of Aaron would have interested him greatly; enough to hide it from queen and country. I think it's certainly worth a look.'

Marika sighed 'Well, at least it doesn't mean a lengthy plane journey. I'm just getting over my jet-lag.'

Lara smiled 'Yes, it'll be quite restful,' her expression darkened 'as long as we don't have any more murders on the horizon.'


	5. Francis' Footsteps

Buckland Abbey, Devon, England

The four walked through the entrance of Buckland Abbey. The front hall was filled with wintry light from the mullioned windows. A smiling woman wearing a dark suit and a National Trust badge looked up as she was re-filling a rack of pamphlets. She stopped and came forward.

'We don't get many visitors at this time of year,' she said 'Would you like a tour? Or would you like to look around by yourselves?'

'Thank you,' smiled Lara 'But I've been before, several times. My friends were visiting over the New Year, and they go back to London tomorrow. So we thought we'd take advantage of the lack of crowds.'

'Of course. So you can take them round? Just as you like. Just ask if you have any questions.'

Lara led the others through the abbey to the bedrooms. They passed through an exhibition room, and Lara stopped in front of a display case.

'This is Drake's Drum,' she explained, gesturing at the beautiful instrument sitting inside the case 'Legend says that it will beat again when England is again in danger, and Francis Drake will return to defend us again just as he did when the Spanish Armada attacked.'

Wrasse scoffed 'Simple superstition!'

Lara gave him an incredulous look.

They eventually reached the main bedroom; the one that had been Francis Drake's. There was no one else there. Lara took out a silvery piece of equipment, and pressed a button. There was a slight buzzing sound, which stopped abruptly.

'Fan out,' said Lara 'Much as it rankles with me to say "find a secret passage or a lever" I'm afraid that's what we're looking at here. I've turned off the alarms with this.' she waved the gadget.

Everyone began to look at the intricate decoration that covered the room, opening drawers and pressing carven pieces of wood. After two or three minutes, they reconvened in the middle of the room.

'Nothing?' asked Lara. Their faces answered her question.

'Bother! I don't know – maybe we've made a mistake about where we're looking.'

'Well, why did you think it might have been in Drake's bedroom?' asked Marika, running her fingers over the carved wood of the four poster bed.

'I don't know. Perhaps I merely assumed that only a man would hide something in his bedroom?' Lara smiled cheekily at Wrasse and Escarelli 'Well, as I said, I can't be sure. But perhaps...' she trailed off as that familiar pain began to throb behind her forehead.

'What is it?' asked Wrasse, and Escarelli stepped closer to her. Lara waved him away.

'Don't worry, but I have a feeling it may be one of those visions again. They're a terrible drag,' said Lara weakly, and then collapsed onto the carpet. She dimly made out Marika kneeling down beside her as black clouds began to roll back into her vision. Then there was utter darkness.


	6. Unwanted Bedfellows

Buckland Abbey, Devon, England, anno domini 1586

Lara's eyes snapped open. It was the same room that she had left, except that tapestry curtains had been drawn across the windows. The room was lit not by harsh electric lights, but by the soft, warming glow of candles.

The fact struck her, she was in a bed. And not just any bed – Sir Francis' bed! She was horrified! Her hands, or rather, someone else's hands, smoothed the blankets that covered her. The person looked down further – and Lara encountered a pair of rather large breasts. Long brown hair spilled over her shoulders and onto the coverlet. The person looked over to a desk, where he was writing.

Francis Drake. She remembered seeing pictures of him – paintings, etchings and so forth – so seeing him in the flesh was quite a shock. And she had never thought she would see quite so much of his flesh either – he was stripped to the waist.

Not bad, she thought. Apparently, neither did the body she inhabited, because the girl, with a lithe, sudden movement, twisted out from under the bedclothes.

'Sir, won't you stop writing, sir? The bed grows cold, and little Moll grows cold without your attentions sir.'

Drake paused to dip his quill in an inkwell. 'A strumpet of a maid like you couldn't be expected to know the value of the written word, my Molly.'

In a mirror across the room, Lara could see Molly kneeling on the bed. The girl was fairly pretty, but not remarkably so. She had a firm, slim figure though – Lara felt almost at home, despite the fact that she couldn't move independently. Molly was pouting stubbornly by this time.

'I can read my lord! I used to read the Bible on a Sunday. I can read!' she persisted. Drake laughed.

'No doubt Moll, no doubt of that account at all. But please, shut your wanton mouth for a little longer. Don't mistake that I wish to get our business underway as soon as possible.'

Molly subsided under the covers again, grumbling to herself a little. Luckily, she slouched back onto the woven pillows, watching him, so Lara was able to see all that was going on.

She saw Drake write a few more sentences and then he paused, searching for a word or a phrase. Finally, he concluded with a flourish and closed the book.

Molly perked up at once '_Now_ will you come to bed, good lord?'

Drake knelt down onto the rug that covered the floor. He rolled it back, but now Lara couldn't see what he was doing. She willed Molly to get up and look, but the girl lay still against the pillows, plucking at the colourful blankets. There was a click, and Drake stood up again. He took the book from the desk, and knelt down once again. Then the floor clicked again, and Drake stood up, the book not in his hands.

Molly shrugged irritably 'I do _not_ know why you conceal your journal in there. I am the only one who knows about it, and I know not how to open the compartment. What can be in your journal that you will hide from even poor little Moll?' she whined, sniffing once or twice.

'It is mere fancy Moll. You will forgive your master his little indulgences. After all, you are so welcome after so many months at sea...' Drake rolled the rug across again, then stood by the bed 'You do know, do you not, how dear you are to me?'

Molly simpered 'Oh, sir...'

Drake, with surprising agility, leapt into the bed beside the girl. Lara wished that this would stop. Sex was one thing, but being privy to the antics of two long dead people was quite another.

Drake grabbed the girl by the shoulder. Lara could feel his hands almost as if it were her body, rough and dry.

'Now,' said Sir Francis Drake 'down to business girl.'


	7. An Elizabethan Enigma

Buckland Abbey, Devon, England, Present Day

Light flooded Lara's vision. She could dimly make out figures, and voices. She tried to count them, and was relieved when she realised that they weren't a couple of copulating Elizabethans. Then everything came into focus all at once, so quickly that she blinked and gasped to see everything so clearly.

Escarelli and Wrasse were standing above her. Marika and the National Trust woman were bending over her, the woman holding a jar of smelling salts. The acrid stench of ammonia washed over Lara.

'Are you all right?' asked the woman 'Do I need to call an ambulance?'

'No! I mean, no, thank you,' said Lara, still groggy 'I'm fine, really. It was just...I can't explain. But I feel fine, I do.' 'Thank you,' she added hurriedly.

The woman looked doubtful, but shook her head 'Well, if you're sure. There's nothing I can give you? Paracetamol or anything? A drink of water?'

Lara smiled weakly 'No, really. You're very kind, but I feel fine. Honestly.'

'Well, let me know if there is anything,' the woman looked at her watch 'You have forty-five minutes until closing time,' she added.

Lara got up off the floor, and they waited until the woman had left. Then the other three surrounded her, buzzing with questions.

'Was it another vision?' Marika managed to get in over the other two.

'Quite. You'll never guess what it was,' said Lara darkly 'How long was I out for?'

Escarelli consulted his watch 'About six minutes I'd say. Listen, are you sure you're ...'

'I'm _fine_. Now look, help me roll back this old carpet.'

The others looked at each other.

'Excuse me?' said Wrasse.

'It's important. Come on!'

Marika and Escarelli both knelt down to help Lara, while Wrasse stayed on his crutches. Together, the three rolled back the cheap red National Trust carpet, to reveal the old bare floorboards, dark with age and dirt. Lara looked carefully at them, running her fingers over the wood.

'I can't find it...' she muttered.

'What? Will you tell us what you're looking for?' demanded Marika impatiently.

Lara got up and grabbed the air freshener from one of the tables. She cracked it open, revealing a canister of fine white powder inside. She sprinkled it over the floorboards, and then blew on it. The powder went into small heaps along one floorboard, four of them in a perfectly straight line.

'Yes! It's a combination lock!' said Lara excitedly. She took a pencil and one of the 'visitor feedback' forms from the same table. Blowing the piles of powder out of the little indents one at a time, she carefully made rubbings of the indents. The others crowded around again to see what she had made.

The figures were worn with age, but were still recognisable. A fish-tailed horse, a unicorn, a lion and a bull. Lara looked at the floorboard again, and pressed on of the symbols with her finger. The floorboard moved down, and a small click was just within hearing as it did so.

Lara showed the piece of paper to the others 'In the vision, I saw Drake putting his journal in a compartment hidden in the floor. These symbols must be the combination. Now, if only we can figure out the sequence,' she looked at the others. They looked blank.

'Oh really! Must I do everything myself!' she said, exasperated. Then her eye caught a stand of pamphlets on the table.

'Wrasse,' she said calmly, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. After all, it might not be a clue... 'Wrasse, could you give me that pamphlet about Plymouth please?'

Wrasse hobbled over, took the pamphlet out of the rack and passed it to Marika. Marika waved it at Lara. 'Well? Would you please tell us what you think might be the answer?' she snapped, irritated at Lara's incomprehensible behaviour.

Lara hesitated 'I'm sorry Marika. It's just...well, I think we might be on the verge of another important historical find. Not as important as the staff but still an extremely significant item.'

Marika subsided a little 'Okay. But it'd better be there.'

'I hope so,' said Lara, smiling at her friend 'Here, look. On Plymouth's coat of arms, is a lion. Plymouth is about ten miles from here. I think it could be one of the symbols.'

'There are an awful lot of lions in British heraldry Lara,' said Wrasse doubtfully.

'I know, but look at this one. The unicorn – the only city in England at the time of the Tudors with a unicorn on its coat of arms is Bristol. So we have two trading ports and...' she hesitated.

'Now that I think of it,' said Escarelli, 'when I visited Oxford two years ago...doesn't the City of Oxford have a bull in its heraldry somewhere?'

'You're right!' said Lara 'Which means that...'

'The other medieval university city of England! The hippocampus of Cambridge!' Marika exclaimed excitedly.

Wrasse looked at her in surprise 'You've changed your tune!'

'So there we have it,' said Lara, smiling 'The two great ports, and the two university towns of England. Now that we've identified them, we need to put them in a sequence.'

'How about naming the towns alphabetically?' said Escarelli. Lara pressed the unicorn, the hippocampus, the bull and the lion in turn. Four clicks resounded inside the box, but nothing happened.

'Too simple,' said Lara, disappointed 'Hmm...'

'How about in terms of population?' said Wrasse, but Lara shook her head.

'I don't know the Tudor populations of those towns, and I doubt if Sir Francis did either.'

'Wait a minute,' said Marika 'Drake was a sailor, wasn't he? So maybe the symbols are arranged in a navigational order.'

They tried putting the symbols south to north, and then again north to south. Once more, nothing happened.

'We're running out of time!' said Wrasse. Already it was only twenty minutes until Buckland Abbey closed for the night. Lara shook her head in irritation. Then, a thought struck her. She got up from the floor, and examined some of the objects that were lying, labelled on one of the tables. She picked up one, a pair of callipers, dirt and rust obscuring the notches along its arms.

'What about these? An instrument for measuring the distance between two points?'

'Well, we'd have to find which point they differ in distance from,' pointed out Marika 'It could be anything!'

'I doubt it would be something too random. Drake would choose something definite, and large – a mountain, or a town...how about London? That would tie in with the other four cities surely!'

'Well, let's find out,' said Escarelli, taking a map of the United Kingdom from his pocket.

After a few minutes, they had organised their order – Plymouth was furthest away, and Oxford was the closest, with Bristol and Cambridge coming between. They tried in that order – starting with the lion, then the unicorn, the hippocampus and the bull. Again, nothing happened.

'Here goes nothing,' said Lara as they reversed the order. Bull, hippocampus, unicorn, lion. Click, click, click, click.

_Click._

The floorboard lifted very slightly, and Lara tried to lever it open. The floorboard resisted.

'It's stuck,' she announced 'Give me the callipers.'

She wedged the instrument against the floor and brutally tried to pull the trapdoor open. At last, after gouging out some flakes of wood, the aperture sprang open.

The space inside was quite small, nestling under the neighbouring board, but quite large enough to accommodate the yellowed and battered book that lay underneath. Lara took it out carefully, drawing her head back as dust wafted off the manuscript in a grey cloud.

'Right, we'd better get out of here. How long have we got?' she asked Escarelli.

'Ten minutes.'

'Good. Put these callipers back on the table. Close up the floor and put the rug back over. Then we'll have to sneak the book out – and this is how.'

* * *

Barbara Young was just switching the lights off in the little kitchenette when the young woman who had fainted appeared beside her.

'I'm really sorry, but could I trouble you for a glass of water? I still feel a bit shaky,' she smiled politely.

'Of course,' said Barbara switching on the light again. She took a mug from a cupboard, and filled it from the jug of filtered water that stood by the sink. The young woman accepted it gratefully, and drank deeply from the mug.

'How are you feeling now?' asked Barbara once she had finished.

'Still a little light-headed, but I'm sure I'll be right as rain once I'm on the way home. Despite my little incident, it's still been fascinating – well, it always is. Drake was a very enigmatic figure.'

'Oh yes,' said Barbara, who considered herself an expert on all things Drake 'I completely agree. So many rumours and mysteries surround him – it's difficult to know fact from fiction sometimes.'

The woman smiled – a little disconcertingly, Barbara thought – 'Oh I know exactly how he must feel.'

'Oh...' Barbara didn't know quite what to say 'Have you finished?' she asked, reaching for the mug. The woman handed the cup back with a smile 'Sorry I've been so much bother.'

'Not at all,' said Barbara. At the sound of feet on the stairs, she said 'That's your friends isn't it? You didn't see anyone else upstairs?'

'No, I think you can safely shut up shop,' said the woman, laughing. Barbara laughed too.

'See you again. And thank you.'

'No problem. Bye now.'

Lara walked to the front door, back to where the others were sitting in the car. She got into the driving seat, and turned the engine on.

'Right,' she said 'Time to see what Sir Francis has to say for himself.'


End file.
